


Like Real People Do

by bi0matrix



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, first fanfic what's happening, gonna make the bard college cooler than bethesda wanted, i'll do what i want some things are diff ok, idk what i am doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi0matrix/pseuds/bi0matrix
Summary: Elise Hardcastle never should've read that damned paper, she just wanted to play some music. Now she is in an unfamiliar world full of magic and unfamiliar people. With a vampire menace on the horizon, Elise needs to learn how to survive and figure out how the hell she got here, and with the help of a peculiar woman, she might just. Also on FF.net
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana, Serana (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: The Elder Scrolls





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I am so used to writing scientific manuscripts, so if this comes off as dry *please* let me know. I've never written a fanfic before, but I absolutely love the Dawnguard Arc and Serana. 
> 
> There will be plot differences, just letting you know. Please bear with me as I set up how the Bard College should have been. It's just to set up how Elise learns magic.

Our little heroine goes home

Elise always liked to wake up early. _The early bird catches the worm, baby,_ her mother used to tell her fondly.Her alarm blares at 6:00 am sharp, the loud ringing reverberating around her small apartment.

Elise releases a groggy groan as she is ripped out of her slumber. It’s always the hardest first thing in the morning. She lays nestled in the warm blankets until she gains the motivation to sit up and lean back on her hands as she stares out of the windows next to her bed. The sky is still dark and few of the city's inhabitants appear to be awake at this hour. She yawns loudly and cracks her back.

“Alright, let’s get ready.”

~~~~~~

Elise spends most of her morning practicing the violin in her apartment. A heavy rainstorm set in later that morning, encouraging her to spend most of the day home. Elise has expressed an aptitude for playing the violin at a young age, performing in concerts as an adolescent to playing in a small orchestra after college. Her lithe fingers glide over the neck of the violin as she practices, pouring her heart and soul into her song. Her violin vibrates and sings bittersweet notes around the room as thunder drums along outside. It’s not long until a large crash of thunder outside startles Elise out of her revere and the lights in her apartment flicker out.

“Of course,” she mutters and sets her violin down before going to the circuit breaker box on the wall above a small bookshelf. As she does she feels her leg catch on a book as it falls to the floor.

“Fuck!” she curses as the hardcover book falls sharply and hits her toe. “What the fuck was that?” After failing to reset the power, Elise kneels down at the cursed book. The green, leather bound cover looks unfamiliar except for the raised imprint over the center. She runs her fingers over an outline of a drooping lily nestled in a circle with several lines jutting out from the flower like sun rays. Her other hand absentmindedly grabs at her gold necklace with a small pendant, about as wide as the pad of her thumb, with the exact imprint of the lily.

“Strange how I’ve never seen you before,” she flips through pages of an unrecognizable language. Pages and pages of texts she could not recognize until she flipped to the next page and a piece of sheet music fell out.

She can make out the title in the dim light. The paper feels ancient as she holds it to the light coming from outside.

_“Tinvaak, Lovaas, Wundun.”_  
Speak, Music, Travel.

Elise shivers as a sudden chill rolls over her shoulders. _Why does this sound familiar? Are these three old composers? Places?_

The apartment is eerily quiet, Elise sets the sheet music down on her music stands and readies her instrument. She plays slowly as she absorbs the notes. Despite the hesitancy, the violin sings strongly. Each note appears to play even louder from the instrument until Elise reaches the end of the page.

Elise sets her violin down as she feels a wave of nausea come over her. Her vision darkens before she sees the floor come up to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all are interested in the pendant, it's Dibella's insignia.  
> I apologize for any horrendous formatting errors.


	2. all we ever knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all here we go again. Please, please let me know if anything is amiss or if you have any critiques!
> 
> Disclaimer: I only own Elise, Bethesda owns everything else.

* * *

Well, well my love

We've been here before

Don't drag me through this again

* * *

_Elise._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Elise._

_That voice._ Elise feels herself floating, eyes glued shut. She is floating in a sea of shadows in an endless void. _She sounds so calming._

 _Elise, darling. You need to wake up,_ the mysterious voice reverberates in the darkness. A voice like velvet, soft but almost sultry. 

_Just a few more minutes, let me rest just a few more minutes. I feel so tired._ She doesn’t know who she’s communicating with. Hell, Elise isn’t even sure if this woman could hear her at all. At this point she doesn’t really care, her body feels as if all her bones were replaced with lead. It’s almost as if she’s sinking, if that’s even possible here. _Am I dreaming?_

 _You have come home,_ the voice replies. _But it’s time to wake up, there is something on the horizon. Something that wants to destroy this world’s beauty and life. Elise, it is time you come home._

Home…

_Wake up…_

~~~~

The first thing Elise notices as she rises from her slumber is the scent of old parchment paper and candles. It takes her a while to command her eyes to open, but when they do she is met with a grey stone ceiling, starkly different to the white popcorn-like ceiling of her apartment. She sits up after a moment and takes in the furs she is nestled under, the small partition separating her small wooden bed to the rest of the large stone room. It is lit by several braziers scattered around, no windows lead outside. _Where the fuck am I?_ Elise’s heart begins to race and she throws the furs off and swings her legs off the edge of the bed. The sudden movement slaps a bout of nausea up into her head, making her vision swim. 

“I would be careful, you may be unsteady for some time,” a voice suggests. A tall man appears at the end of the partition and stands at the end of the bed. Elise takes in his sharp features: piercing eyes, sharp cheekbones, light blonde hair and a beard to match. 

“You’re very lucky I found you,” he continues. “Who knows what would’ve happened if bandits did.” He crosses his arms and raises one hand to stroke his beard, fiddling with the tie wrapped around the hanging end. 

“Bandits?” Elise croaks. She tries to clear her throat. The mysterious man nods and moves to the table beside the bed to hand Elise a glass of water. Her hazel eyes never fail to leave his tall form. _What a peculiar outfit,_ she thinks. _Is he roleplaying or something?_

“Yes, they have been insufferable these past few weeks,” he says with disdain. “One of them tried to rob me of my lute the other day.”

Elise sips her drink thoughtfully as she takes in what this strange man is saying. The sleep is finally wearing off, and her mind is buzzing. 

“What is your name?” She asks quietly. 

“Ah, my apologies! How rude of me, I am Viarmo, headmaster of the Bard College,” he says proudly. He holds out a slender hand to Elise to which she hesitantly takes. His grip is strong and palms rough, yet Elise could tell there was a tenderness underneath. _The hands of a musician. Did he say Bard College?_ Something catches Elise’s eye, she tilts her head for a better view. 

“Yo-your ears?!” Elise blurts out. Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide. She can see now that Viarmo’s ears are pointed.

“I am guessing you have never seen Altmer where you are from, yes? It is rude to gauk,” he raises a brow. 

“I’m so sorry,” she fumbles an apology. “Ah, no… Altmer do not live where I am from. My name is Elise Hardcastle, by the way.”

“And where are you from?” Viarmo questions and releases his grip. 

“Northpoint.”

Viarmo nods. “High Rock. I suppose that makes sense for you, Breton.” Truth be told, Viarmo has also been sizing up this strange woman the moment he found her. It was certainly strange, finding this woman unconscious on the wayside just outside the gates at Solitude late at night. Was she drunk? The stench of mead was nowhere to be found. And her clothes, very strange. He would’ve guessed she was a thief for wearing so much black, but Viarmo couldn’t find a single weapon on Elise.

“Where am I?” Elise breaks Viarmo out of his thoughts. Viarmo ponders for a moment and sits down at the table, facing Elise. 

“We are at the Bard College in Solitude,” he begins. “Truth be told, I would’ve never found you if it wasn’t for a dream I had the other night.”

“Dream?”

“Dibella spoke to me,” Viarmo ignores her. His brow furrows as he tries to remember the details of his dream. “She told me that I would find my greatest student just past the gates. I did not think she meant the gates of Solitude. But when I was returning from playing music at the docks, I noticed you were lying on the side of the road. I am assuming Dibella meant you. While I was expecting another Altmer like myself, I suppose a Breton will do. Your kind still has a great aptitude for magic, thanks to your diluted elf blood.”

Elise is quiet and absorbs everything Viarmo says. Under his scrutinizing gaze she is trying to make sense of everything. The more he speaks, the more real everything seems. _Where the fuck am I?! This is so bizarre. Who the fuck is Dibella? What is a Breton? I want to go home._

“You seem like you have a lot of questions,” Viarmo relaxes and points to a washbasin in the corner. “I had the maid prepare some warm water for you. We can speak more over food after you freshen up. I will be waiting upstairs in the dining hall.”

Viarmo leaves Elise, past the partition and down the hallway. After a moment, she hears the faint open and close of a door. 

“What the fuck,” she rubs her face with her hands in frustration. She repeats to herself that this is just some crazy larp event that she was somehow roped into. “Viarmo” is not the guy’s real name and his elf ears are just the result of some amazing makeup. But there is a little voice in the back of her head that has her wondering how on earth did she manage to end up in the stony basement of this “bard college”?

“Okay, okay. There is no reason to freak out right now,” Elise talks out loud as she stands up and walks to the washbasin. “He hasn’t hurt you so far, so maybe you aren’t kidnapped. Maybe this is some sick joke. Just play along for now until you get more information. Or a way out.”

Elise splashes some water on her face and the back of her neck. It feels good, grounding her to the reality of all of this. She reaches for a towel hanging from the side of the basin. She grabs the towel and pats her face dry. Afterward, she pulls the towel down and is met with a small dusty mirror. “What…” she leans forward to get a better look.

“What the _FUCK.”_


	3. this is real life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our little hero has a panic attack and glows blue.

Elise stares closely at herself, eyes intent on the different features now adorning her face. Her face is more angular now, cheekbones are higher and jawline more pronounced. Her hair that was once jet black is now chesnut. Elise grabs at a loose curl on top to inspect the new color, the back and sides of her head are still neatly shaved. Overall, Elise thinks she looks more.... fair? Maybe elf-like except for the ears. 

“What is going on,” she whispers to herself. Her heart is pounding in her chest and suddenly Elise is afraid of being alone.

She makes her way from the last bed of the sleeping quarters and eventually finds her way upstairs to where Viarmo is waiting for her at a small round table.

“Ah, there you are. For a second I thought you decided to go back to sleep. Take a seat,” he gestures to the other chair. There’s bread and cheese on a plate and what looks like two bottles of alcohol on the small table between them. Viarmo gestures to them and says “The chefs are not done yet. Eat and ask questions. I can sense you have a lot of them.”

Elise grabs one of the small bottles and cautiously takes a sip. She realizes it’s sweet mead. “I’m not sure how I got here,” she begins slowly. “Not at this… college. But in this city.”

Elise explains to Viarmo what happened in her apartment, leaving out the details about the music sheet. She tells Viarmo how she felt nauseous and when she passed out she had a dream where a woman spoke to her. 

“A woman?” Viarmo echoes. 

“I didn’t see her, but she kept telling me that I needed to wake up; and, that it was time to go home.” Elise takes a thick slice of bread, it’s still warm when she takes a generous bite. Viarmo is silent, stroking his beard absently.  


“This might be a long shot, but you may have had a vision of Dibella as well,” his blue eyes lock with Elise’s. “Perhaps, this meeting was fated. I’m not sure how you came all the way to Solitude in such a short time. But if a goddess has anything to do with it, then I wouldn’t put it past Dibella to do some meddling.”

“Mmm,” Elise hums and absentmindedly rubs the pendent around her neck between her thumb and forefinger. “If where I live is as far as we think it is, what am I going to do? I can’t just start walking, I don’t know where to go.

“I will see what I can do to get you back to Northpoint. But in the meantime, you are welcome to join the Bard College,” he says. “You would have a place to sleep with the other students and food to eat, so long as you abide by the college’s rules.”

“That would be great,” Elise smiles a little.  _ This is mad, he looked so confused when I told him how I got here. Just keep playing along until you find a way out. _

“Excellent. Do you play any instruments or sing? We have a number of instructors that specialize in different musical fields,” Viarmo says.

“Uh, I mostly play the violin,” Elise replies. “I can sing a little as well.”

“I’m not sure what a violin is,” his brow furrows. He gets up and retreats to the bookshelf behind them and grabs some parchment paper and charcoal. “Can you draw it for me? It may be an instrument native to High Rock that I am unfamiliar with.” Elise draws a very crude sketch of her violin and its bow. Viarmo tilts the page toward him when she finishes and studies it closely. “Mm, I think I have seen bards play this instrument before. They run this bow over the strings, yes?” Elise nods. “Unfortunately, it's foreign to those in Skyrim and you will not find an instructor here that has one. The instruments we have here are the lute, drums, and flute.”

“How about the lute?” Elise asks. 

“Excellent choice,” the high elf nods. “I will let Igne know she has a new student. You will also attend lessons with me.” Viarmo stands and beckons Elise to follow him. “Let me give you a tour of the grounds.” Elise follows Viarmo as he leads her around the college going back down to the student chambers, the kitchen, and up to the classrooms where her lessons would begin tomorrow. Elise notices a few students practicing their instruments as they tour the third floor. There is a blond man with black paint streaked across his eyes, in particular, who is playing the drums passionately as they pass. 

“What do you teach?” Elise asks as the pair walk down the stairs to the first floor and out the front door, her hands tucked into the front pocket of her black sweatshirt. 

“I can teach anything here,” Viarmo states proudly as he opens the door. A blast of cold wind knocks the breath out of Elise, but Viarmo appears unaffected by the aunslaught. “But I prefer to teach the lute and singing.”

He grows quiet for a moment and leads her into the large stone courtyard. Elise looks up at the sky, cloudy from an imminent snowstorm. 

“With you, however, I will teach you my specialty,” his back is turned to her as he walks toward the north end of the clearing. Elise follows closely behind the elf, her view obscured by his slender form.

“And what is that?” They walk under a stone archway and follow a narrow path underneath it. Adjacent to them is a stone amphitheatre for performances and festivals, now empty. Elise looks past the performance circle and beyond the stone arches and pillars. Despite the cold nipping at her skin, Elise erupts into a cold sweat as she takes in the sea and mountains before her.

The Sea of Ghosts laps lazily at the cliffside below the Bard College. In the distance, enormous glaciers float underneath the dense clouds. The landscape before Elise is in stark difference to the sprawling city with tall skyscrapers and busy streets of Northpoint. 

“This, this is real isn’t it,” the drumming in her ears blocks out Viarmo asking her if she’s alright. Her skin pales and her palms drip in sweat. “Oh god, this is real.”

“Elise?” Viarmo’s voice is drowned out. He sees a deathly pallor overtake the girl’s face. He places an arm on her shoulder to steady her as her breath comes out in hard gasps. His eyes widen in concern as Elise as he feels her tremble. “Elise, what is wrong?” Instead of responding, Elise collapses to her knees and pulls up her hood, shielding her face from the world. Viarmo soon follows and tentatively places his hand between her shoulder blades. He concentrates for a moment, focusing on his palm, commanding a faint blue light to life. 

Elise can feel Viarmo’s hand on her back, and then a wave of calm wash over her. The intense anxiety she just felt is dampened slightly by this sudden sense of calm. She lifts her head to face Viarmo, who is looking at her intensely. 

“What just happened?” Her voice is meek. 

“You were panicking,” he explained slowly, “so I casted a calming spell on you. It should help for a few minutes, but when it wears off, you will feel that panic again if it doesn’t subside.” Elise blinks at him at the mention of magic. He says nothing as he helps her on her feet, hand remaining on her back to steady her. He guides her back inside the college and to the kitchen where lunch is waiting at the table. There are several students and teachers already seated at the long, wooden table. Viarmo takes a seat at the head of the table and beckons Elise to sit close to him. She wordlessly sits and a cook soon follows and places a bowl of meat stew in front of her. The food warms her belly and provides her a small sense of comfort. She can still feel the calming spell in her body, but she knew the anxiety was just waiting beneath it, like a tiger ready to pounce. 

“I think,” Elise begins, amongst the chatter of the table, “I had an anxiety attack over the thought of being so far from home.” 

“Have you experienced this before?” Viarmo questions. Elise shakes her head. 

“No, but then again I have never been put in a situation like this before,” the headmaster nods sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he’s unsure of what to say at first. “I understand the feeling of being so far from home. It has been a very long time since I have seen the beautiful lands of Summerset.” He pauses to drink from his silver goblet, eyes a little misty. “But I hope that you too will start to feel at home here. You are welcome to stay at the college for as long as you wish. All of the students and teachers here support each other, and I hope you will feel a sense of community amongst us.” 

Elise smiles gratefully at Viarmo, who offers a smile back. The calm spell wears off, and Elise can feel the anxiety come back, but this time she has a sense of control over it and pushes it back down. 

_ I can handle this for now. Just one day at a time. This is real life now.  _

~~~~

For the next two weeks, Elise slowly begins to adjust to life at the Bard College. In the mornings, she has her lute lessons with Inge Six Fingers followed by musical seminars with the other students in the afternoon. In her free time, Elise raids the bookshelves to read about this strange world she has come to live in. Through reading, Elise figures out that Solitude is actually a major city in a region of Tamriel called Skyrim, home of the Nords. She reads about their Norse-like culture and dips her hands into the history of the fourth era. 

She makes friends with the drummer she saw on her first day. His name is Jorn and she swears his passion for the drums is matched by no one at the college. When they are not practicing together, Jorn tells Elise how excited he is to join the Legion and lead them to victory with his songs. She thinks his voice could use some work, Inge also agrees, but Elise enjoys his enthusiasm. Jorn even invites her on evening walks around Solitude, pointing out different landmarks, and hotspots. In a way, he is like the older brother Elise never had. 

And despite the overwhelming culture-shock of it all, Elise begins to feel a little happy as time goes on. 

“So what does the headmaster do with you in your private lessons?” Jorn asks one evening. Elise and him had walked to the dock after dinner to see the boats docking. 

“Nothing really, he just asks me to play the lute or sing for him so he can critique it,” Elise replies. She tucks the white collar of her shirt closer around her neck. In her first week, the college had generously donated some new clothes for Elise to wear. Now she exchanged her old black sweatshirt and jeans for a high collared white button down shirt, a fur trimmed brown vest, and a muted blue overcoat. The overcoat has a quilted sewing pattern and extends down to her knees and is held closed with a thick brown belt around her waist. Despite how slim the garments felt, the layering was more than sufficient in keeping out Skyrim’s cold weather. 

“You know, he doesn’t usually tutor students,” Jorn says. The two of them walk past a Solitude guard. Elise looks at him nervously, his steel sword hanging lazily as he guards the gates. They brush past the gateway to the city and into the plaza. Jorn’s words rest on Elise’s shoulders.

“I had a feeling about that. I mean, I’ve never seen Viarmo teaching another student. It’s weird though,” Elise notes, “sometimes I think he’s looking for something in particular, but he doesn’t say anything outright. Do you wish the headmaster tutored you?”

Jorn snorts. “Never, he’s not passionate enough about the drums. I want to play warsongs, give soldiers courage. Not put them to sleep.” They walk past the plaza and down toward the college.

“It sounds like you can’t wait to leave.”

“You’re right, once I graduate and become a bard this year, I’m signing up with the Legion at Castle Dour,” he smiles at Elise. “Want to sign up with me?”

Elise laughs, causing Jorn’s smile to erupt into a grin. “I don’t think the Legion would want a lute player. Besides, if I were to leave Solitude, I don’t think I could possibly defend myself.”

“Not even with a dagger?” he asks incredulously. 

“I would stab myself.”

~~~~

That night, Elise sits in bed with an old, worn book on supernatural creatures in her lap. She reads through the pages by dim candle light while the other students snore behind the partition. The book is more of a record with notes of lycanthropy and vampirism, along with the major werewolf packs and vampire cults. It almost seems made up to Elise, but now that she’s lived in Solitude for a few weeks and has seen magic, weapons, and rats the size of dogs, she knew that these monsters must be out there.  She continues to read until she encounters a long entry on a particular vampire cult.  _ The Volkihar Clan _ , it reads. 

_ The Volkihar Clan is a faction of vampires ruling a large fortress, northeast of Solitude, on an island in the Sea of Ghosts. Volkihar vampires are ruled by its royal members: Lord Harkon, Lady Valerica, and their sole daughter Lady Serana. The royal family is said to be some of the oldest vampires in Tamriel, the first recordings of them dating back to the Second Era before Tiber Septim. It is hypothesized that they may have originated before then.  _

_ Detailed history of the Volkihar Clan is unknown. The royal family is known to worship the daedric prince, Molag Bal. Only sparse notes are available on the royal family, provided by several unlucky spies and adventurers. Below are the summaries of Lord Harkon and the known members of his Court.  _

Elise reads on about Lord Harkon’s brutal rule. How he enjoyed sacrificing thousands of innocents to Molag Bal and the pointless killings. It seemed that his wife and daughter, Lady Valerica and Lady Serana, were more of the “diplomats” in the few mortal political events they partook in. They were quite the pair it seemed, Lady Serana being the more violent while Lady Valerica being the more reasonable one. Elise felt a shiver down her spine as she read a gruesome entry about Lady Serana slaughtering several leaders at a political function over a disagreement. The chapter on the Volkihar Clan ends with their disappearance from politics and the rest of Tamriel. It is unknown what happened to them, whether they were eventually killed or if they’ve holed themselves up in their isolated island. 

Elise closes the book, silently thankful she never has to deal with creatures like that. She sets the book on the end table to the left of her and blows out the candle before nestling into the furs. That night, she dreams she is walking through the forest beneath the light of the moon. Bright molten copper eyes stalk her from the shadows wherever she turns. When she breaks out into a run, she feels someone grab her before biting into her throat. 

~~~~

“You seem distracted,” Viarmo notes during their tutoring session the next day. They are practicing the lute in the outdoor amphitheatre. Viarmo sits on a stone bench in the first row while Elise stands in the middle of the circle. 

“I’m just a little tired, I couldn’t sleep last night,” Elise brushes him off. She recalls what Jorn told her about the headmaster yesterday. “Headmaster, why don’t you teach the other students?” 

He looks almost taken aback for an instant. Blue eyes widen for a split second before regaining their cool composure. He gestures to a space on the bench beside him for Elise to sit. She gladly plops down, placing the lute beside her and relieving the pressure from her feet. 

“What do you know about magicka?” Viarmo asks, turning to her. His eyes are critical.

“Nothing, really. Jorn sometimes tells me about a mage that comes into the WInking Skeever, but I’ve never seen any magic in person other than that calm spell.”

“Magic is all around us,” Viarmo hums. “Every plant, every living creature on Nirn has some level of innate magicka. Those who study magic are able to increase the amount of magic they wield through time and practice. Do you follow so far?"

Elise nods. “Yes, I’m not sure how this relates to anything, though.”

“Sometimes, there are mages who struggle or are unable to cast higher level spells due to an insufficient amount of magicka. To compensate, some mages use enchanted items that either increase the amount of magicka they can wield or help mold the spell for them. The Bard College has a special class of them called Conduits.” He pulls out a slender flute. It’s ivory material carefully crafted with runes engraved on the surface shines in the sunlight. “This is one such Conduit.” 

“It seems like a flute to me,” Elise says honestly. Viarmo erupts into a hearty laugh. His hands carefully cradle the flute, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rune engravings. 

“Elise,” Viarmo looks straight ahead and carefully measures his next words, “there are a number of colleges spread across Tamriel that offer to teach the magic arts to select students. The most popular in Skyrim is the College of Winterhold.” Viarmo stands up and walks a few paces from Elise before turning to her. “The other college, lost to time, is the Bard College.” 

Viarmo takes the flute in his right hand and holds it to his chest. He concentrates for a second, channeling his magicka to flow down his arm and into the instrument. The flute glows blue in return, the runes shining brightly. In one smooth motion, Viarmo whips his right arm to his side and points the flute toward the Sea of Ghosts. A blinding flash of light erupts from his hand and in place of the flute is a long, slender sword with an ivory hilt and a blade so bright it looks white. Elise gasps in amazement at this spectacle. 

“That’s amazing!” Elise exclaims. “How did you do that?”

Viarmo lowers the weapon to his side. “Before the Bard College was just a place for musicians to come and learn how to sing, it was once a school for magic. The mages here specialized in using Conduits to channel their magicka. Conduits enable a mage to perform magnificent feats of magic.” He raises the blade to run his other hand across the white metal, “For some it enables them to summon material weapons. This is different to bound weapons from Aetherius which are not material and can disappear. Others can use the sound of music from these instruments, or even their voice, to coax powerful spirits to fight for them.” 

“What happened to the college?” Elise asks. As far as she knew, it did not appear that anyone other than Viarmo knew about the college’s past.

“According to journals of previous headmasters the process of creating Conduits was deemed too dangerous and a Jarl band the practice many years ago. I’ve been fortunate to learn this magic from the previous headmaster, who learned it from his mentor and so on.”

“It must be difficult to practice something like that in the shadows,” Elise notes. Viarmo doesn’t say anything. He moves to sit next to Elise again, commanding the blade to morph back into its innocent flute form.

“Sometimes, yes. Mostly, I am looking for a student to pass this practice down to. But after Dibella’s vision, and after me finding you, I think I found her,” he looks to Elise. It takes her a moment to realize the weight of his words. When she does, her hazel eyes widen in shock.

“What? But I don’t know anything about magic! I didn’t even know everyone has “magicka” until today.”

“These past “lessons” have been just more than teach you how to play the lute,” Viarmo chuckles. “I have been trying to assess the amount of magicka you possess, and even though you haven’t practiced spells, you surprisingly hold a large pool of innate magic. Not only that, but you possess enough patience and will to learn this art. This is the will of the Divine, I am sure of it.” The flute’s glow dims in Viarmo’s hand as he passes it to Elise, who is too shocked to say anything. She looks down at it for a moment before cautiously cradling it in her hands. 

“Concentrate on the Conduit,” he instructs. “Imagine pouring your energy down your arms and into your hands as you fill it with your magicka.” 

The whole notion seems bizarre to Elise, almost funny. How can a bard use magic? Obviously Viarmo is proof of that, but it seems that he is more of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

Elise shifts in her seat for a moment, the cold stone providing little support for her rear. “I’m not even sure what to concentrate on,” she says weakly. 

Viarmo, ever patient, thinks for a moment to come up with a way for his student to harness magicka. “This of it like this,” he offers, “imagine there is a well filled with water in the center of your body. Now imagine willing that water to flow up the well, against gravity, out of the top and let it flow through the rest of your body. Magic, in its unaltered form, is very loose. You can will it to flow almost anywhere if you have control over it. If you don’t… well it can flood the body so to speak and drown you.” 

Elise nods with a gulp and closes her eyes, imagining a deep well nestled in the darkness of her mind. She conjures up the thought of water sloshing at the bottom and pulling it up the walls of the well. As she does so, Elise can feel a sharp tug in her chest as if the water is actually resisting her. She concentrates harder until the water provides some give and slinks up the walls of the well and sloshes over the top. There is a feeling of warmth blooming from her chest and down her arms as Elise imagines the water flowing like a small stream from her chest, up to her shoulders, and down through her arms. The heat intensified as the water, or what she is guessing magic, collected in her palms. 

“Excellent, you are almost there. Now provide some give so that the magicka can leave your hand,” Viarmo encourages.She does as he instructs and the heat in her palm lesses. Elise slowly opens her eyes and sees a bright blue light emanating from her palm, the runes on the flute glowing with the same blue light. 

A grin splits her face and excitement bursts from her chest. She can actually  _ do  _ it, much to her surprise. 

“Perfect!” Viarmo’s voice booms, knocking Elise out of her excitement for a moment. The blue magicka dissipates from the flute and retreats back up Elise’s arms and into the well. The warmth subsides as the magicka retreats, leaving Elise to shiver a little under the setting sun.

“That was a little difficult,” Elise admits. Her arms and palms feel a little sore, as if she just exercised. 

“It’s supposed to be. Losing control over one’s magicka can result in bodily harm, but it looks like you did well,” Viarmo takes the flute and tucks it into a pocket in his robes. He rises from his seat and beckons Elise to follow him. Elise thinks of the heat generated from the magicka, imagining what could have happened if she let it overwhelm her body without any sense of direction. She shivered at the thought of being burned from the inside out. 

Before Viarmo opens the door to the college, he turns to Elise. In a low voice he tells her, “if you want to learn more about magic, meet me on the third floor tonight at the performer’s podium when all of the other students are asleep.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulls the door open and walks inside. 

Elise is consumed with the thought for the rest of the evening up until she is sitting at the foot of her bed that night. The student quarter is dark except for the few braziers lining the wall. She rubs her hands together slowly as she thinks of Viarmo’s proposition.  _ It would be amazing to learn what Viarmo did with the flute today. _ Hell, maybe if Elise learned how to wield a Conduit, she wouldn’t be so afraid of walking outside Solitude without Jorn. And if she could venture a little farther from Solitude, maybe she could find out why she ended up here. 

The walk to the third floor is silent. Elise treads carefully on the stairs, careful not to fall in the shadows. The performance podium on the far wall is dimly lit by a candle Viarmo has set on one of the chairs near the front. He is waiting with his arms folded comfortably across his chest. 

“You made it,” there is a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Have you made a decision?”

“Yes,” Elise nods and stands in front of Viarmo, looking up at his blue eyes. “I want to learn more about Conduit magic.” Her voice is firm, almost confident. The altmer nods and reaches in a pocket of his robe before fishing out a black crystal about the size of his palm. 

“This is a black soul gem, in order for a mage to practice Conduit magic, they need an item specifically bound to them. Transmuting a Conduit from one form to another is significantly easier when it is already accustomed to you.” 

“So is this going to be my Conduit?” she questions. 

“Sort of, I will first have to trap a small piece of your soul so that we can use it to summon your Conduit. It will only take a moment, if you are still willing,” he adds. 

Soul trapping? Back on Earth, Elise didn’t really believe in the notion of souls. Now she’s here and Viarmo is telling her that souls are tangible enough to grab and manipulate.  _ I should really stop wondering about this shit, I shot magic out of my hands today and an elf turned a flute into a  _ sword.  _ How am I now questioning the idea of souls?  _

“I’m ready.” 

Viarmo’s other hand raises, palm pointing toward her. A swirling ball of violet and black erupt from the center. “Hold still, I don’t want to take more than I need to,” he warns. The dark mass launches at Elise and encases her body. For a moment she can feel it stab into her chest painfully and she collapses to her knees with a cry as something is quite literally ripped from her body. The pain knocks the wind out of her as she is gasping for breath.

“You forgot to say it hurts like a bitch!” she coughs and presses a hand to her chest where she felt her soul leave. 

“If I did you probably would’ve said no,” Viarmo deadpanned. “Anyway, you’ll be fine, your body will adjust with little time.” 

The student rose from the ground and brushed some dirt from her pants. The black soul gem in the headmaster’s hand is now emanating a bright violet glow. “Hold out your hands,” he instructs. Elise’s arms are outstretched, palms facing up. Viarmo sets the soul gem in her palms and uses his hands to provide support under her palms. 

“I will cast the spell to summon your Conduit, but I will need you to pour magicka into the soul gem like you did today,” he says in a low voice. Being so close to Viarmo, Elise can feel the magicka emanating off his palms in waves. It almost feels as if it is searing the backs of her hands and flowing through to her palm. Concentrating again, she commands a small stream of magicka to flow through her palms and into the soul gem. Her palms begin to glow blue as magicka flows into the gem. 

“More magicka,” the altmer urges. Elise swallows and commands more magicka through her palms. The heat in her hands builds but she continues to press energy into the gem. The gem, which was once violet, is now beginning to glow the same color as Elise’s magic. Viarmo begins to whisper a chant in a language Elise doesn’t recognize. Before she could look up from the gem, there is a flash of light blinding her momentarily. Her eyes squeeze shut at the sudden flash that lights up the room. A small pulse of energy knocks against the walls of the college, enough to cause a sudden rumble in the stones. 

The gem feels lighter in her grasp and when Elise opens her eyes she realizes that she is no longer holding a gem but a violin. Resting innocently on her palms, the violin is a deep rosewood, the darker grain running along the length of the instrument. A matching bow rests on top. She adjusts her grip to grab the neck of the violin and the frog of the bow. It feels solid in her grasp, real. 

“Why a violin?” Elise asks, gazing at the beautiful instrument. 

“From my experience, a Conduit is made in the shape of what the mage loves most. For some, that is in the form of the instrument they love to play. For others it could be a quill or an inkwell if they love to write. Conduits usually initially take the form of musical or artistic objects before being transmuted by its user.”

“So if I turn this into a sword like you did, it would stay a sword?” Elise runs her fingers over the violin’s strings. She plucked them absentmindedly, admiring how it is perfectly tuned. 

“Absolutely. Your conduit does not have to stay in this form. Once you learn how to transmute it, you can keep it as anything you like to an extent.” Viarmo reaches for his flute beside the candle, as his hand reaches for the instrument he transforms it into a quill. 

“And I can learn how to do that?” her eyebrows raise in amazement. The headmaster nods. 

“Of course, as far as I know, you are the only one in Skyrim who is going to learn how.” 


	4. i'm under your spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, if you haven't seen already. I started another story for the Dawnguard line. I'm a little hesitant, it's the other plot I was debating on pursing before starting off with this story. The stories will be pretty different, but depending on my muse I might start honing in on just one over time.

Much to Inge Six Fingers’ disappointment, Elise’s studies have shifted from studying an instrument to studying magic under Viarmo’s supervision. The student and her teacher agree that they should practice in the early morning and evening when most of the college members are within the building. When some of the early mornings deemed too cold for Elise, Viarmo introduced her to potions that temporarily boosted her resistance to the chill. 

Over the course of several weeks, Elise pours over centuries-old tomes and scrolls on Conduits and practices transmuting her own into whatever the high elf instructs. On her first attempt, Elise tries to transmute the bow into a quill. The results are... explosive, needless to say. Actual magic requires far more concentration and control than Elise initially realized, and many of their lessons end with a splitting headache on her part, and mild frustration on Viarmo’s. Fortunately, with practice, Elise is able to transmute her Conduit into several objects. To both of their relief, her transmutation attempts no longer explode, but sometimes transmute into random objects on her part of not concentrating enough. 

But practicing magic gives Elise far more confidence that she realizes it would and she begins exploring Solitude even without Jorn’s company. On her walks, Elise shapes her Conduit into two small iron daggers, mimicking the ones she sees the blacksmith craft. 

In the coming weeks, Jorn’s birth-day passes and he drags Elise along to Castle Dour so he can sign up with the Legion. They gladly accept the tall nord on the condition he practices combat as well as music. Elise is proud of her friend for joining the military, despite some opposing views about the Thalmor. Jorn constantly shrugs it off whenever Elise mentions how terrible the Thalmor are and says he doesn’t care much for them. Sometimes she visits her friend and watches him train in the castle’s courtyard. He’s a skilled fighter, not much of a surprise, and primarily trains with a greatsword. 

~~~~

“‘Heard they’re reforming the Dawnguard,” one Imperial soldier tells his friend in the castle’s courtyard one evening . “Vampire hunters or something.” Elise overhears them talking from her station against the wall near the courtyard’s entrance. Jorn asked if she wanted to go to the Winking Skeever tonight for a drink, but he seems a little busy at the moment hacking off limbs of wheat dummies. 

“Do you think you’re going to sign up?” the other Imperial soldier asks. 

“Maybe, it would be for a good cause if General Tullius allows me to. Did you hear about what happened to the Hall of the Vigilants? I hear the vampires did it.”

“Of course vampires did it,” the latter snorts. “There were vampire and Vigilant corpses all over the burnt rubble. The vampires are probably getting bolder, and Vigilants of Stendarr despise them. I’m just glad I decided to be a soldier and not a warrior-priest.” 

His friend laughed at him, his imperial armor clinking from the sudden motion. But despite his laughter, there is a nervous air between them at the mention of vampires. Elise, thank the gods, has never seen a vampire within the walls of Solitude. But she has seen several recruitment fliers nailed to the walls and buildings for the Dawnguard. Other than the civil war, it’s all anyone talks about these days. 

“Are you ready to go?” Jorn runs up to Elise, his greatsword securely sheathed on his back. His old college clothes are now swapped for a new set of steel imperial armor, minus the helmet. The paint that once streaked across his face is now gone, according to regulation face paint is prohibited. He still has that boyish complexion, unsullied by battle. 

“Yeah, just don’t sit too close to me, you smell like a stable,” Elise’s nose scrunches. Jorn laughs heartily and wipes some sweat from his forehead. They descend down the sloping pathway to the tavern in the setting sun. 

“So what did you do today? It’s a little boring at the college without you,” Elise asks as they settle down at the bar. Corpulus, an imperial and owner of the inn, sees the two regulars and sets down two mugs filled with mead and bowls of venison stew. Jorn takes a long slug of mead before responding. 

“I finally got the opportunity to play a song in front of Hadvar today. He requested some instrumental music that could be used during marching.”

Elise takes a small bite of her stew.

“And?”

“By the gods he loved it. He wants me to go on the march to Fort Snowhawk in the coming days.”

Elise hears the excitement in his voice, but cannot help but feel a twinge of worry.

“You’re leaving so soon?” She voices her concerns.

“Uh yeah, but don’t worry, the fort isn’t too far. Just south of Solitude, I think. Besides, the stormcloaks are so stupid, they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Jorn offers a placating smile at his friend. He takes in her slender neck, high cheekbones, and pink lips. He’s going to miss seeing her everyday.

Elise notices how Jorn looks at her when he thinks she’s unaware. Unfortunately for the nord, Elise knows she could never think of him in the same way. He’s too brotherly in Elise’s head, in addition to her own preferences that may send Jorn into a shock. 

“I see. Well, I’m going to miss you, Jorn,” she smiles back. 

“Bah, don’t worry. I’ll be home in no time. And when I do, I’ll finally show you how to use those daggers!” He hides the faint, pink dusting on his cheeks by taking a swig of mead. 

The two fall in idle chatter as the inn fills with more people. The hearth blazes and laughter fills the air as a drunk tries to fiddle with the bard performing  _ Radgard the Red _ . It is well in the night when Jorn and Elise stumble out of the inn, several drinks in their systems. Jorn manages to stumble into the soldiers barracks after a bone crushing embrace with Elise. He says that he’ll bring back a souvenir for her to which she makes him promise. 

Elise, in her haze, decides to take a walk within the city’s walls. It is beautiful at night, the cobblestone streets dimly lit by well placed lanterns and braziers. Guards lumber past with a torch in hand on the clock. Elise takes her walk around the empty market place, the stalls vacated for the night, and up toward the blue palace. She passes the Bard College on her way, her shadow casted by the bright lights shining through the windows. 

Up ahead, two figures walk silently in her direction. She pays them no mind as they pass.  _ One of them smells very good _ . Almost like honey.

It is very tempting for some reason. 

Elise stops in her tracks, as if on command. Behind her she feels the two strangers approach her. 

“This one is much too scrawny, Lokil,” a gruff voice says behind her. “You couldn’t have enthralled a guard?”

_ Enthralled? I feel so...sluggish.  _

“Would I be so foolish as to enthrall a guard to follow us? How suspicious is that,” Lokil responds. “This mortal will do just fine, she’ll be a good snack for Lady Serana when we release her.” 

The Lokil figure rounds in front of Elise. She takes in his deathly pale skin, and strange black clothing. His face is partially obscured by a hood, but she notices glowing eyes staring back at her. 

_ I’ve seen eyes like that before _ . _ But where? Why is it so hard to think? _

More of the honey scent fills the air, relaxing Elise’s muscles against her will. Lokil smirks in satisfaction as his spell takes effect. 

“Mortal, you will follow every word I command. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the word slips past her tongue.  _ Why did I say that? _

“Perfect, walk beside me,” he orders slowly. Elise follows his order to the letter. For some reason she cannot say no. There is a voice within her head, alerting her that something is wrong, but it is drowned out by a strange buzzing. 

~~~~

The events that follow are a blur to Elise. She faintly remembers leaving Solitude, walking past the farm and the giant windmill. The two strangers lead her further down the road than Elise has ever walked. Every Once in a while, Lokil’s companion asks if he could feed from Elise, but is shot down quickly. Lokil admonishes that he can never control himself and he does not want to go through the trouble of enthralling another mortal. 

Her feet ache for some reason, since when were they in front of a cave?  _ I know that I want to sleep, but why can’t I lay down? _

“Mortal!” Lokil barks. Elise’s legs bring her inside the cave against her will. The cold air nips at her cheeks as she walks across snow covered rocks. She is met by the sound of water and the scent of stale air.  _ Is that blood?  _

__ There are three more figures waiting near an open gate. Two are dressed in the same dark garments as her two companions. Another is a man kneeling on the ground in nothing but ragged pants. His hands tied securely behind his back. 

“Lokil! You have returned,” one of the shrouded forms steps forward. His skin, unlike the others, is an ashen grey. Pointed teeth jut out from his upper lip. “A vigilant decided to pay us a small visit in your absence.” 

Lokil’s smile is sinister, “Is that so?”

He turns to the kneeling form.

“I remember you, Vigilant Adalvald. Have you come to spill your secrets?”

Adalvald, bruised and bleeding from bite wounds, spits at Lokil’s boots.

“I promised Stendarr I would say nothing to you, vampires!” 

_ Vampires. _

Elise is unsure of what happens next, but Adalvald is on the floor in seconds. The side of his face erupting in a purple bloom. 

“Now, that is not something you should say to your hosts,” Lokil brings his fist back to his side. “You two,” he looks at the two figures near the gate, “Stay here in case a friend of his decides to chase after him.” 

Lokil’s shrouded companion yanks Adalvald to his feet, effortlessly. The wounded man grits his teeth against the pain, but refuses to cry out. Lokil leads the way further into the cave. Elise feels her vision cut out every so once in a while, often opening her eyes to new rooms she wasn’t previously in before. 

_ Why do I keep walking? _

__ Eventually, the vampires and mortals walk through a small wooden door which leads into a large open cavern. The next thing Elise processes is that she is standing on a stone platform within the cavern, ahead is a bridge that leads to an island lined with stone archways. 

“I’ll tell you nothing!” Adavald breaks the silence. He kneels before Lokil, breathing heavily. His complexion is paler than before, his life draining from his wounds. 

“Tell us how to open the seal, and we’ll give you a quick death,” Lokil promises. Adavald does not reply. 

Lokil sighs and nods at his companion. “Use your gift to squeeze the information out of him.” He turns and orders Elise to follow. She is at his heels without a second thought, albeit a little sluggish from exhaustion. Behind her, she hears a hissing sound before Adavald erupts in screams. There is a sickening crunch followed by the sound of flesh tearing. 

Needless to say, she does not turn around, enthralled or not. 

Lokil’s companion meets them on the island, his front and hands covered in thick blood. Elise’s begins to tremble at the sight, bile threatening to rise from her throat. 

“Did you get anything out of his mind?” Lokil asks, his focus on the pedestal in the center of the island. 

“I did, his mind proved to be fragile in the end,” he responded. Lokil nods, satisfied with the answer. 

“Well then, let’s get this over with,” Lokil’s companion grabs Elise’s wrist. His grip tight enough to bruise her skin. He withdraws one of the daggers from Elise’s belt and draws it across her wrist. She yelps as pain shoots up her arm. Her body trembles against Lokil’s spell, trying but failing to move away from the other vampire’s grip. He holds her wrist over the pedestal, letting the stream of blood drip onto the center. 

The island begins to shake as violet light illuminates the braziers dotting the platform, the vampire releases Elise when she pulls away and falls on her rear as a large monolith rises from under the pedestal. One of the panels slides away, and in Elise’s haze, she recognizes the form.

_ A woman. _


End file.
